


Where We Can See The Stars At Night

by sansalannistark



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Modern AU, roadtrip au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 13:28:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11968380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sansalannistark/pseuds/sansalannistark
Summary: On the way to his brother's wedding, Jaime Lannister picks up a hitchhiker who could just change his life.





	Where We Can See The Stars At Night

**Author's Note:**

> First, thanks to @winterjons/siriuslydraco for helping me plot and beta this piece and sending me words of encourgement and support <3 extra kudos for thinking of the title too! ;)
> 
> Second, a small thing to note is that the rapid plot of this fic is intentional. I'm hoping the quick pace works!

As sunlight dimmed over the spanning road, Jaime flicked on his car lights. The sudden bright beam illuminated the road ahead, bathing it in a harsh light and outlining the figure of what looked like a young girl. Worried she might be in some sort of trouble, Jaime slowed the car and pulled over to the side of the road, his eyebrows pulled down as he took in the girl’s features. He realised now that she was actually more of a young woman, probably only eighteen or nineteen, with red hair and startling blue eyes. Her hand covered her face as she squinted in the light.

“Do you need any help, Miss...?”

“Stark,” she blurted out. “Sansa Stark.” Sansa hadn’t meant to tell him her real name: she had no idea if Petyr had sent men out looking for her. The likelihood was yes, but this man looked kind enough and he didn’t seem to know who she was. She hoped he could be trusted.

“Miss Stark... Eddard’s daughter?” He asked. Sansa nodded in confirmation.

“May I know your name, sir?”

“I’m Jaime Lannister,” he replied, smiling apologetically as he extended his hand. She took it, shaking firmly despite the worry marring her gentle features. She knew exactly who he was. Unfortunately, her desire to reach the capital outweighed her hesitation.

“I’m trying to get to King’s Landing. Is there any chance I could hitch a lift?” Jaime felt his stomach twist at her words. Of course, he had no problem with ferrying her along, but her lack of company ate at him. _Why is she making her way alone to King’s Landing? And hitchhiking at that..._

“Sure, you’re more than welcome to hop along for the ride. I’m headed there for a wedding.” He smiled at her to try and reassure her and was comforted when she smiled faintly back. Sansa reached for the bag by her feet and opened the door round the other side, sliding in as Jaime pulled away with a roar.

“So why is a young northern girl like yourself travelling alone, Miss Stark?” He enquired, glancing at her in the mirror.

“I... I was staying with my Uncle. I found out yesterday that he was responsible for the deaths of my parents and brother, and... Well, I couldn’t stay.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Do you have anywhere to go, Sansa? Do you mind if I call you Sansa?

“Sansa’s fine,” she smiled, turning to look at him. “And no, I don’t, but anywhere is better than with him.” The note in her voice was hard. Harsher than Jaime had expected and he felt a burst of anger at this unknown man who had clearly caused her so much pain.

“Well, I’m going to my brother Tyrion’s wedding. He’s marrying Margaery Tyrell – some rich socialite from the West. Beautiful, really, but too ambitious for my tastes and not my type at all,” Jaime explained, and then added, “Maybe I don’t really have a type.”

“Surely everyone has one,” Sansa commented, eager to talk about something other than Petyr. “I used to like young, handsome princes: you know, powerful, caring, doting boys. Now I hate them. Honour isn’t all it’s made out to be, you know?”

“Yeah, I do,” he added wistfully. Sansa wondered why she’d said all that. Here she was in a car with a stranger and she was pouring out the contents of her heart. Hell, she’d only known the guy thirty minutes, yet here she was, confessing her feelings. _Oh fuck that, who else would listen to me now._ It was hitting her, as she sat here with this man, that he was probably the only one she had told the truth to in months: with her sister and brothers gone, and her older brother and parents dead, Sansa truly had no one. In some respect, taking to a stranger was easy. At least he had no association to her old life.

The drive continued, peppered with light conversation. Jaime drove along, sipping at his flask of coffee every now and then. The road was a blank black canvas, quiet and peaceful and in between topic changes, the lapses of silence were welcoming. Eventually, Jaime lapsed into darker thoughts while Sansa took the chance to lean her head against the cool window and catch a bit of sleep.

At some point she must have nodded off into a deeper slumber, for when she woke, she was lying outside the car, on a grassy strip of roadside as Jaime knelt over her, feeling her forehead, his face crinkled in concern. Sansa made to sit up, groaning as her body became alert and a strong hand supported her back as she adjusted into a sitting position.

“You okay? You nodded off back there and then suddenly you were having a nightmare. I pulled over and lay you down for a bit,” Jaime mumbled. “Here, you want a drink?” He passed her a bottle of water which Sansa gratefully accepted, taking a long slow swig.

“Do you get nightmares often?”

Sansa looked up at him. “I’ve had them since I was 16, but tonight...”

“Sansa...”

“Please don’t make me talk about it. I can’t... I...” her voice broke suddenly and tears began to slip down the pale white of her cheek. Impulsively, Jaime brushed his hands over to dry her face and when she looked up at him with such pain in her eyes, he no longer resisted the urge to wrap her up in his arms. Sansa’s sobs wracked her body as he held her tight.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’ve ruined your jacket,” she explained, gesturing to where her tears had dampened the blue material. Jaime shook his head.

“Don’t be stupid, Sansa. I don’t give a shit about the jacket.” He grasped her chin in his hand and tilted her chin up. “Sansa, I know you don’t want to talk about it, and I do not want to press you, but we both have issues, and sometimes it’s best to talk them out. My brother always told me that,” he added with a small twitch of his lips. Sansa responded in kind.

“If I tell you my worries, then you must tell me yours, Jaime.” It was the first time she had said his name, and he found himself surrendering to the sweet sound of his name on her soft lips.

“It’s a deal. What do you want to know?” he teased.

“Who hurt you?”

Jaime was taken aback by the question and flinched involuntarily. “What... I...”

“These past hours you’ve been so happy, but underneath... I can see your torment. Please tell me, Jaime. I want to help.”

Jaime let out a small laugh at her innocence. “My pain is nothing to yours, Sansa.”

“Please.”

He sighed. “My wife. I caught her cheating on me with some great oaf of a man. Hairy brute,” Jaime glowered. “He wasn’t the first either. There had been many, many others and all over the last 10 years. I lost 10 years of my life because of that hateful woman. I can never forgive that.”

Jaime had not realised until now Sansa’s hand resting on his cheek until he felt her delicate little fingers rub across the light stubble of his chin. “I am sorry, Jaime. She sounds like an awful woman, and I am sorry you did not know.”

“I loved her, but she _was_ awful. I wish I had not thrown away my time on her.” Jaime caught himself before he could say more and focused on Sansa.

“Enough about me. Sansa, tell me what happened. Please,” he pleaded. “If there is _any_ way to help you, I promise I will do my best to keep you safe.”

“Petyr Baelish, the man who is my Uncle by marriage, caused the deaths of my family, but he also wanted me. He used to love my mother and he told me that he loved me and that I was more beautiful than her. I tried to push him away and he left but he threatened me and told me that I would find myself willing or I would end up like my family. I went looking after that and found these letters in his room. He helped the Boltons murder my mother and brother and had my father found guilty of treason. He killed them,” she whispered, clinging to Jaime’s warm form. It was wrong, but she couldn’t make herself let go.

The silence hung for a few minutes as both of them remained as they were. Sansa’s tears dried and Jaime pulled them both to their feet. He had no idea what to say to comfort her. “I think there’s a motel nearby. We should get a place to rest,” he advised.

Sansa settled herself back in the passenger seat, pulling out the photo of her family from her purse. Her thumb brushed reverently over the faces of her beloved siblings and parents. They had been a happy family. Dysfunctional and crazy, but they had been content. Jaime seemed at a loss, but she felt his worrisome glances on her from time to time. The silence held until he found the motel and parked, helping her from the car. Only now did it occur to Sansa that she had been travelling with this man for hours. Time had flown under her notice: the motel clock informed her it was around eleven. Suddenly, Sansa felt exhausted, as if the troubles of the last few days had collapsed on her lithe shoulders. Feeling faint, she wobbled on her feet, clutching onto the receptionist’s desk for support.

Jaime – who had been sorting the two rooms – noticed her fatigue and grabbed the keys, thanked the receptionist and hooked his arm under Sansa’s, holding her up haphazardly.

“Come on, Sansa. You need to sleep.”

She mumbled something incoherent in response, allowing Jaime to lead her to her room. He helped her to the bed, leaving her bag on the floor.

“You got everything you need?”

“Mhmmm...”

“Okay.” Sansa thought she vaguely caught the hint of a smile on his lips, but she could have been imagining it. “I’ll knock in the morning. Get some rest – we’ve got a little while to go still,” he added.

Jaime paused at the door. “If you need anything, just wake me. I’m in 212.” Sansa nodded and he shut the door. Barely five minutes later she was fast asleep, sprawled amongst the blankets as her mind sunk into a deep oblivion.

\---------

Sansa fluttered awake at the sound of mild knocking on her door. Jaime’s tender voice floated through the wood. “Sansa? If you’re awake, we can go get some food before we leave.”

“Yeah... be two minutes,” she called, her voice laden with sleep. She heard him chuckle, followed by the sound of his door opening and closing. Pulling herself up, Sansa stumbled to the bathroom and washed, then pulled on a blue shirt and jeans. She hadn’t brought any makeup – not that it mattered, of course, she told herself. As she grabbed her bag, Sansa’s mind flitted back to its ordinary logical state and she had five seconds of panic where she considered that Jaime had taken her with him to rape her, or hurt her, until she remembered his care of her the night before and reassured herself he was just a broken man who wanted to help her. _He has not given me reason to doubt him. I am not about to condemn him for a crime he has not committed, even if he is a Lannister,_ she mused.

Sansa presented herself outside of Jaime’s door and knocked. He appeared quickly, smiling at her as he closed the door. “All good?” he asked her.

“Great, thanks.” Together, the pair set off for a small breakfast, filling their stomachs with pastries and coffee before they checked out and took their familiar seats in Jaime’s car. As Jaime made to turn the engine on, Sansa’s hand flew out and halted his movement. Jaime looked at her quizzically.

“Jaime, I never thanked you for taking me to King’s Landing, nor for paying for my hotel room or taking good care of me when I have been such a burden.”

“Don’t worry about that,” he answered, shaking his head at the concern written on her beautiful features. “It has been my pleasure and I’ve enjoyed the company. Besides,” he joked, “it has always been my task to rescue pretty maidens.”

“Did your brother tell you that too?” she bantered back referencing their conversation the previous day, her face writ with playfulness. He gave her a sharp jab in the side in jest and she laughed.

“No, as a matter of fact he did not,” Jaime responded, shaking his head at her in mock annoyance, which in turn caused her laughter to grow. “Okay, that was kind of a lie,” he admitted.

Jaime turned on the engine, making for the King’s Landing route. They settled into a comfortable ease and in those next few hours, they talked about their lives: how Jaime’s patriarchal father differed from how gentle Sansa’s own had been, her desire to write for a living whilst he complained about his boring office job, and his love for his two small children and distaste for his elder son. Sansa came to realise, as they supplemented their recollections with memories of their childhood and funny stories they recalled, that she probably knew more about Jaime than his own wife or father. They could have been friends years and not known more about each other than now. She ardently hoped that when they parted ways – a moment she did not wish to imagine – they could stay in contact. It did not occur to Sansa that this desire to remain near Jaime, and not the stifling heat that had invaded the car, was the cause of her agitation.

When they stopped at eight o’clock, the darkness now encapsulating the sky once again as in the previous two nights, Sansa took Jaime’s hand without a word. When he questioned her actions, she just lead him further off the road, until she found a small clearing in the trees.

Sansa had not brought much money with her – her savings had not been immense. When she had offered to reimburse Jaime for the petrol costs or the motel room, he had point blank refused, but Sansa would not leave without repaying him. Nor could she leave without sharing this moment with him.

“I know you have refused my money, but I want to repay you. Even in a small way." Sansa tugged him into the clearing, motioning for him to sit on the grass. Obediently he copied her, as she lay down on her back, her russet hair spread across the ground, giving the illusion that blood was pouring from her head so vividly that Jaime almost did a double take. He turned his head to look at her, wondering what she was about but she merely grabbed his hand.

"Look," she whispered, holding his hand up with her own until he was pointing it at a cluster of stars, glowing against the pitch sky. "In the city, you'd never see this: the stars are blocked by all the lights. Here, though, you can see anything." Jaime heard the joy in her voice and glanced at her, taking in the peaceful expression painting her face. _Beautiful_. "That cluster there is the dreamfyre cluster, named for one of the Targaryen's last dragons. It's my favourite," she added softly. Jaime squeezed her hand.

"Did your father teach you about this?" Sansa nodded and the tears in her eyes made Jaime’s stomach turn. 

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I... I just love... loved them so much." 

Sansa sat up, staring at the sky, clearly lost in thought. So much so that she did not notice the press of Jaime's lips to hers. His mouth captured hers, his hand running over the pale column of her arm, both touches featherlight. 

Sansa gasped at his action and Jaime pulled away, looking ashamed. "Sansa, I'm sorry, I should never have presumed..."

Sansa gripped his hand harder. "No... I just didn't expect it, that's all," she responded, returning the kiss. She felt Jaime sigh against her mouth, relief apparent, and move to tangle his hands in her hair. Sansa felt like she was burning, the heat of his skin on hers and his mouth on her lips inflaming the deepest desires of her body. Jaime's lips brushed over her pulse point, nipping at her ear as he explored her neck as Sansa let out a breathy moan. She let her head fall onto his shoulder, inhaling the smell of coffee and cinnamon as he traced her collarbone with his teeth.

"I care about you so much, Sansa Stark," he whispered against her. Sansa's stomach fluttered. _I've known you 72 hours and..._  

"I care about you too, Jaime." 

Sansa made to unbutton her shirt, but Jaime's large hands halted her. She looked up at him, but he shook his head. 

"I want you - but not here. You deserve better than a roadside fuck. When I make love to you, it will be in my bed, and I swear I will worship you as you deserve."

“Jaime...” No one had ever cared about her feelings as much as he had.

“We should go, Sansa, but thank you. No one has shared such a gift with me in a long time.” He pulled her to her feet, brushing off the strands of grass gracing his clothes. “It’s only another couple of hours to the capital.”

“What happens when we get there?” Sansa’s voice trembled. She was partly afraid that Jaime would go to his wedding and forget all about her, but he proved her wrong once again.

“That’s what I wanted to ask... I don’t have a date for this wedding, and I thought... well... do you want to go with me?”

Sansa gaped in surprise but quickly recovered herself. “Surely it would not be proper...”

“It is if I say it is. I am sure Tyrion would like to meet you - I think you two will have a lot in common. Besides, I cannot leave my fair maiden to the dangers of the capital.” Sansa let out a sarcastic laugh at his jovial mood and teasing, playful comments, but could not dispel the swell of happiness that rose within her at him calling her his.

“I would love to go, but I didn’t really bring anything nice to wear. I mean, I have this purple summer dress of my mother’s, but it’s not suitable for a society wedding.” Jaime scoffed.

“Society wedding? Ha! When the groom will be drunk halfway through the reception and every wedding guest has paid their way there? I doubt it will be anything like you expect. No one will give a shit what you wear, as long as it makes you look attractive – and I assure you, you don’t need any help to look beautiful.”

“Jaime,” she whispered, “why are you being so kind to me?”

“I care about what happens to you, and I don’t want to let you go. You’re a rare find, Miss Stark. In the capital, everyone schemes and manipulates and fights for power. You want none of those things. You just want to live peacefully with people who love you. I can’t let you wander the country alone and unhappy. I just can’t.”

“And you’ll make me happy?”

“I would try. The truth is I don’t know you well enough to know what would make you happy.”

“Did you mean what you said: do you love me, or is this some passing infatuation because you’re upset about _her.”_

Jaime grabbed her arm and pulled her flush against him, staring into her blue eyes until he felt like he was going to fall from the precipice he was balanced on. Sansa gazed intently back, searching for confirmation. When his eyes softened and his face – coloured with love – continued to study her, she knew.

“You truly do love me...”

“Do you love me?” he responded.

“I love you so much, Jaime. Perhaps love really is as ridiculous as they say. Sometimes it takes months, years, to find the person you spend the rest of your life with. Sometimes you find them by accident, on a road to nowhere, and fall in love with them in hours.”

“Come to the wedding, stay with me afterwards, and we’ll figure out what to do,” Jaime implored.

“I will. I don’t think I want to leave your side,” she laughed, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips and taking her shotgun seat. Jaime just shook his head in disbelief, and once again, they were away, speeding into the night with one big change.

They were no longer strangers.

\------------

Their arrival in King’s Landing began with a stop at Jaime’s flat for a nap. The wedding began early the next day and the hour was late, therefore both Jaime and Sansa agreed on rest and he gave her a quick nod as to where the toilet was, before showing her into the guest room. They had not discussed since their earlier conversation the nature of their relationship and they went to sleep on this tension.

Sansa was grateful for the comfortable bed and had a full night’s sleep. Being in a strange bed, unlike Jaime, she woke earlier and took the time to wander round his bachelor pad. Luxuriously furnished and surprisingly tasteful, Sansa took in the flat in awe. After a time, she decided on taking a shower, wanting to get in and out before Jaime was awake. The warm water washed away her doubt at going to the wedding and the confusion of the whole accumulating situation. Sansa was childishly amused to find that Jaime’s bodywash was lemon scented and suppressed her mirth. Felling better, Sansa grabbed the towel, but as she was wrapping it around her body, Jaime barged into the shower.

“Shit, shit, sorry!”

Jaime jumped back, averting his gaze as Sansa’s face reddened and she pulled the towel tighter around herself.

“It’s my fault, I should have locked the door properly.”

“Ah, no harm done,” he teased. Sansa smiled under the blush flooding her cheeks. Wordlessly, she ducked past Jaime and scarpered out. Sansa heard the bathroom door close as she made for the safety of the guest bedroom.

She didn’t look too bad she surmised, as she took in her appearance. A short, stylish and rich purple summer dress clung attractively to her figure. For once, Sansa was glad of her natural curly hair, for it accentuated the dress’ better features. Though she hadn’t brought any heels with her in her haste, there was a pair of silver sandals she had, by some luck, flung in her bag and since it was a summer wedding, the sandals wouldn’t look out of place.

Once dressed and ready – minus her usual makeup – she went to explore the kitchen. She could hear Jaime drying his hair in his room and she set about grabbing fruit and making coffee. When Jaime emerged ten minutes later, he found Sansa sitting at the kitchen island, tucking into an apple. He paused, not calling out, as he took in her figure in the dress. Even sitting down, he could appreciate her beauty and how elegant she looked dressed up. Sansa turned, sensing his gaze.

“Jaime... you don’t happen to have, like, any makeup lying around do you?”

Jaime chuckled. “What, you think I need a bit of eye shadow to accentuate my eyes?”

Sansa rolled her eyes back at him. “Shut up. You know what I mean.” Jaime nodded, his expression unreadable.

“Yeah, there’s a few things in the bathroom cabinet. Top shelf.” He paused. “She left it when she divorced me, just old bits she didn’t need,” he added by way of explanation, but Sansa could tell he wasn’t just referring to the makeup.

She went hunting for the makeup and found it. Most of it was old but expensive and so was still usable. She applied light foundation, mascara and some natural eyeshadow, deciding she could probably forego the blush. _Or at least I can if Jaime is around._

When she left the bathroom, she found Jaime waiting for her by the door. He held his arm out to her, which she took happily, running her eyes up and down over his outfit. The dark blue suit and lighter shirt suited him and showed off his golden tan.

The car waited outside. It had never hit home with Sansa how rich he really was and she had never noticed on the journey the status of his car. As it was, she felt like royalty as she settled in the passenger seat, in a way she never had on their journey. Perhaps it was the makeup and clothes, but Sansa suspected the city was what made her feel so wholly different to how she had felt in this car on their journey here.

The whole way she began to get more and more nervous and her hands clammed up. Jaime must have noticed for he reached across to run his thumb over her wrist and she immediately began to calm.

“You have nothing to worry about, Sansa. They’ll love you.”

“I hope so.”

“I _know_ so,” he insisted as the car drew up at a large manor house. Car parked, Jaime helped her out, taking her arm in his once again.

“Just so you know, I texted Tyrion to let him know who you were and that you’re my guest. I think he and Margaery are both excited to meet you.”

Sansa nodded, swallowing nervously as Jaime lead her inside.

The room was packed, woman and men of every corner of King’s Landing society chatting and mingling with glasses of champagne and scotch in their hands. Every guest oozed wit, grace and power. Sansa felt uneasy but not as put out as she expected. _I can do this,_ she told herself.

Jaime approached a short man whom Sansa assumed was Tyrion from what Jaime had told her. The dwarf turned and his face spread in elation as he saw his older brother in the crowd.

“Jaime! About time, the ceremony will began shortly. I know you like a dramatic entrance brother, but really, I thought you would never arrive!”

Jaime laughed, clapping his brother on the back. “I would have been here sooner, but I found a fair maiden on the road, in need of trouble. Brother, this is Sansa Stark.” He motioned to her and she approached Tyrion, smiling gently.

“Sansa Stark! What a pleasure. Now tell me, what brings you to King’s Landing?”

Sansa froze, shooting an anxious look at Jaime. “I... um, I was just trying to get here for a job. I cannot live with my Aunt and Uncle any longer and I need to support myself.”

“Ah, so you have been thrown in the lion’s den? Lucky my brother found you, then?”

“Very lucky,” Sansa affirmed.

“I hear you two have become close on your short journey...”

Jaime cut in. “Yes, Tyrion, but no more now. You know how I hate gossip.”

“Of course, of course... ah, it looks like they’re ready. We’d better go. Nice talking to you, Sansa.”

Tyrion walked away and Jaime turned to Sansa. “I’m going with Tyrion, but I’ll show you to your seat first.” Jaime motioned for her to follow him into the church and led her down the aisle to the front row. He planted a kiss on her forehead as the guests filtered into the church pews, leaning in close to whisper, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m good,” she replied with a fluttering smile and he left his hand drift over her arm as he went to stand at the front of the church with Tyrion. Sansa was interested to see how King’s Landing weddings differed to those in the North. They were a lot more elaborate for one, and the Seven Gods involved, where in the North, the Septon would speak to the Old Gods. The bride herself looked stunning as she graced the church with a silvery gown and intricately woven hair.

_She looks nice,_ Sansa thought, watching as Tyrion and Margaery Tyrell joined hands and exchanged vows. The couple gazed lovingly at each other, wrapped in their own illusions as the Septon pronounced them husband and wife. Suddenly, Sansa had a vision Jaime and herself marrying, standing there just as Margaery and Tyrion were. Four days ago they had been strangers. Now, the choking feeling of how much she really, truly had come to love this man threatened to suffocate her as Jaime sat beside her smiling.

The guests began to swarm out as they had in but Sansa just sat, the pain of loving Jaime so much smarting in time with her heartbeats. Jaime must have noticed her agony, for he leaned over to look at her, his eyes wide.

“Sansa...?” Before he could say more she stood up, her feet carrying her out of church as fast as they could without being undignified. Outside she summoned a waiting cab, shoving money in his palm when she reached Jaime’s place. Sansa barely paused to breathe as she stabbed in the flat’s passcode and ran for her room, shoving everything she had brought into her bag.

So overwhelmed with the depth of her love for him, Sansa went into overdrive. Changing into something more comfortable and slinging the bag over her shoulder she called another cab. On an afterthought she grabbed a pen and scribbled a hasty note on the notepad by the door. A beep from outside signalled the arrival of the taxi driver and Sansa shut the door, hurrying down the stairs. She directed the driver to take her to the coach station, having no idea if King’s Landing even had one, but logical assumption that it would have had escaped her. When the taxi driver nodded and pulled away, she breathed out, trying to calm herself. She didn’t have a lot of money left and she had no idea where she was going, but she had to leave. That much was certain.

Sansa knew her reason was that she was overwhelmed. She didn’t consider that the real reason was that maybe she thought she wasn’t good enough for him.

\-----------

Jaime was a wreck. Sansa’s sudden disappearance had worried him – he had no idea where she had gone and could only hope she’d gone back to the flat. She certainly wasn’t hiding somewhere at the wedding. He’d looked everywhere.

In hopelessness, he’d talked to Tyrion, who had seen his brother’s distress and now understood the depth of his affection for the girl. This more than anything made Tyrion encourage his brother to go to his flat. It was the obvious place Sansa would be.

When Jaime arrived, it was silent and checking Sansa’s room yielded only one fact: she had gone, her belongings absent along with their wild owner. Jaime slammed his fist down on the counter, gritting his teeth. _I have to find her._

He made to walk straight out the flat, but the shift of objects on the table by the door caught his gaze. The notepad lying on its surface held a message and one which Jaime desperately scanned.

                _Jaime,_

_I’m sorry I left so suddenly, but I can’t stay here. I don’t belong in this life and I don’t think I can handle loving you and staying here in this strange place all at once. I care about you so much, but we barely know each other. It’s for the best._

_Sansa_

“Fuck!” Jaime raged, throwing the note down on the floor: he wasn’t going to let her go without a fight. _I cannot lose what I’ve just gained._ If she chose to leave after hearing him, he couldn’t stop her, but he wanted her to hear him first. The only problem was knowing where she had gone. Sansa had to be either at the train or the coach station, but given her lack of money, his bet was on the coach station. Jaime hoped he was right.

Once out and into the car, he put his foot down and - breaking the speed limits as he had done in his youth - sped for the coach station. He hoped his hunch had been right and that he wasn’t too late. It had been a good hour since she had gone.

Jaime wasted no time at the coach station, running out the car and scanning the waiting area furiously for the shock of red hair he had come to know and love. She was nowhere to be seen and Jaime began to wonder if she hadn’t gone to the train station instead but when he asked the ticket lady, she told him she had sold a redhead a ticket to Sunspear not much earlier.

“You should go now – it’s due to leave any minute,” she added. Thanking her he frantically ran for the Sunspear bus, praying to every god that it hadn’t left. Jaime stopped, breathless in the departures area.

The Sunspear bus was speeding out, sliding smoothly onto the motorway and disappearing from sight.

_No... no, she can’t have gone._ Jaime felt his bones threaten to collapse, a mixture of exhaustion and pain dragging him down as he stumbled, crumbling, to an empty bench. Head in his hands, his vision blurs. It’s something that hadn’t happened in years and he felt weak and pathetic and couldn’t find it in himself to care as he shook.

“Jaime?”

He stalls, because there is no _fucking way_ he could be this goddamn lucky. Yet, when he finds the courage to look up, the foolish, annoying, beautiful Sansa stands in front of him, her face covered in a comforting confusion.

“I thought you had left,” he chokes out, staring at her. She just stares back.

“In the end, I just couldn’t bring myself to leave, y’know?” The smile on her face is so carefree he wants to yell at her for his heartbreak but how can he, when her face is also tear-ridden.

“I know, Sansa, I know.” _I could have left you at that roadside. I didn’t. You could have left me at this station. You didn’t._

With no words left, he just jumps up and buries his face in her hair, arms around her waist as he acknowledges the fact that neither of them left the other.

He doesn’t think either of them could handle abandonment again.

 


End file.
